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The discontents' repair, and men's reports
Give him much wronged.

I should have known no less.-
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wished until he were;
And the ebbed man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love,
Comes deared, by being lacked. This common body,
Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Cæsar, I bring thee word, Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them; which they ear 4 and wound With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads They make in Italy; the borders maritime Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt. No vessel can peep forth, but ’tis as soon Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more, Than could his war resisted. Cæs.

Antony, Leave thy lascivious wassals.? When thou once Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against, Though daintily brought up, with patience more Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle 8 Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did

deign The roughest berry on the rudest hedge ; Yea, like a stag, when snow the pasture sheets,

1 That is, the malecontents.
2 The old copy reads, “Comes feared by being lacked.”

3 The folio reads, “lashing the varying tide.” The emendation, which is well supported by Steevens, was made by Theobald. Perhaps another Messenger should be noted as entering here, with fresh news. 4 Plough.

5 i. e. turn pale. 6 Flush youth is youth ripened to manhood, youth whose blood is at the flow.

7 Wassals, or wassailes, is here put for intemperance in general.

8 All these circumstances of Antony's distress are literally taken from Plutarch.

The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps,
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on. And all this,
(It wounds thine honor, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lanked not.

'Tis pity of him.
Cæs. Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i'the field ; and, to that end,
Assemble we immediate council. Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

To-morrow, Cæsar,
I shall be furnished to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To 'front this present time.

'Till which encounter, It is my business too. Farewell. Lep. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know mean

Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.

Doubt not, sir;
I knew it for my bond."


SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

Cleo. Charmian,
Char. Madam.

Cleo. Ha, ha!
Give me to drink mandragora.”

Why, madam
Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of time,
My Antony is away.

1 That is, to be my bounden duty.
2 A plant, of which the infusion was supposed to procure sleep.


You think of him
Too much.

Cleo. 0, 'tis treason!

Madam, I trust not so.
Cleo. Thou, eunuch! Mardian !

What's your highness' pleasure ?
Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure
In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee,
That, being unseminared, thy freer thoughts
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections ?

Mar. Yes, gracious madam.
Cleo. Indeed?

Mar. Not in deed, madam ; for I can do nothing
But what indeed is honest to be done.
Yet have I fierce affections, and think
What Venus did with Mars.

O Charmian, Where think'st thou he is now ? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse ! For wot'st thou whom thou

mov'st? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of men.--He's speaking now, Or murmuring, Where's my serpent of old Nile? For so he calls me. Now I feed myself With most delicious poison.—Think on me, That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time! Broad-fronted Cæsar,2 When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect, and die With looking on his life.

Enter ALEXAS. Alex.

Sovereign of Egypt, hail ! Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony !

1 A burgonet is a helmet, a head-piece. 2 “ Broad-fronted,” in allusion to Cæsar's baldness.

Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With its tinct gilded thee.'—
How goes it with my brave Mark Antony ?

Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kissed—the last of many doubled kisses-
This orient pearl.-His speech sticks in my heart.

Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.

Good friend, quoth he,
Say, The firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster ; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East,
Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arrogant” steed,
Who neighed so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb by him.

What, was he sad, or merry ? Alex. Like to the time o' the year, between the

extremes Of hot and cold; he was nor sad, nor merry.

Cleo. O well-divided disposition !—Note him,
Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him;
He was not sad : for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his. He was not merry;
Which seemed to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy: but between both ;
O heavenly mingle! –Be'st thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes ;
So does it no man else.—Met'st thou my posts ?

Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers.
Why do you send so thick ?

Who's born that day

1 Alluding to the philosopher's stone, which, by its touch, converts base metal into gold.

2 The old copy reads "an arm-gaunt steed,” upon which conjecture has been vainly employed. Steevens adopted Monck Mason's suggestion of “ a termagant steed,” with high commendation. The epithet now admitted into the text is the happy suggestion of Mr. Boaden. The word arrogaunt, as written in old MSS., might easily be mistaken for arm-gaunt.

3 Thus the old copy; which was altered by Theobald to dumbed, without necessity.

4 i. e. in such quick succession.

When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar.-Ink and paper, Charmian.-
Welcome, my good Alexas.-Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Cæsar so?

O, that brave Cæsar!
Cleo. Be choked with such another emphasis !
Say, the brave Antony.

The valiant Cæsar !
Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Cæsar paragon again
My man of men.

By your most gracious pardon
I sing but after you.

My salad days;
When I was green in judgment;-Cold in blood,
To say, as I said then !—But, come, away.
Get me ink and paper; he shall have every day
A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt. [Exeunt.


SCENE 1. Messina.

A Room in Pompey's House.

Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and Menas.
Pom. If the great gods be just, they shall assist
The deeds of justest men.

Know, worthy Pompey, That what they do delay, they not deny.

Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays
The thing we sue for.'

We, ignorant of ourselves,
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good; so find we profit,
By losing of our prayers.

1 “While we are praying, the thing for which we pray is losing its value."

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